Dead in the Water
by kendell13
Summary: "She'd made a promise to herself to continue to re-live these memories, no matter how painful it might be. She had to remember them – remember them for Daryl. Because there was a huge chance that Daryl would never actually be able to remember the memories himself." Carol must help Daryl learn to love again after he's in an accident that causes him to lose his memory. AU. Caryl.
1. Meeting

**A/N: If you've happened to read my author bio, than you know I ship Caryl. **_**Hard**_**. So this is my first attempt at writing something for the ship I love so dearly. I hope you enjoy. Reviews are always appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: As always, no part of The Walking Dead belongs to me in any way.**

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Carol could remember the first day they'd met like she remembered the scars that littered the palm of her left hand.

Those scars took her back to one of the earliest memories of her childhood that she could recall – she'd been ten years old, a gangly thing of a girl that somehow always managed to find trouble, even when she wasn't looking for it. She hadn't grown into her long legs yet and was constantly getting picked on by the neighborhood boys for what they'd nicknamed her "chicken legs"; Carol had absolutely despised that name. So in order to prove that she wasn't the weak little thing they thought she was, Carol had decided to climb the largest tree she could find in her backyard. And she had done it too, quite successfully to the shock of those boys. It was the getting down part that she hadn't predicted would be so hard. Instead of simply navigating her feet down the tangle of branches, her grip had failed and she'd found herself lying on her back with the sun beating down on her face, a mess of scrapes, blood, and bruises. Luckily, the boys had gone home before her descent down the tree had begun…

Glancing down at the miniscule scars, Carol tapped her foot impatiently against the tile floor of the hospital waiting room. She hated hospitals. They reminded her of a past she yearned to forget. Unfortunately not all of her scars were caused by childhood mishaps. But no matter how much she hated those scars, she wore each and every one of them with pride. Carol's scars showed that while she had been through hell and back, she had somehow made it out alive – and not only had she escaped from the torment that she'd used to live in, she had _thrived_ since then.

She had found something – _someone _else to live for.

Carol had met him on the side of the road at the end of September, right when the blazing heat of the summer turned into a cool autumn breeze. The engine of her beat-up station wagon had decided to fail. Again.

It was supposed to be a simple run to the grocery store for milk, eggs, and hamburger meat. She'd been informed at the last minute by telephone that Ed was having company over for dinner, some last minute business schmooze-fest with his new boss. So of course, Carol was tasked with playing the loving and dutiful wife who modestly prepared the meal, made sure everyone's wine glass was refilled before they had to ask, and who didn't secretly fantasize about smothering her abusive husband with a pillow in the middle of the night.

But as her car had started to sputter and crawl along the asphalt at a snail's pace, a groan had escaped from her lips and she'd pulled the dinosaur that was her car into the grass. She'd climbed out of the car and opened the hood, coughs racking her lungs as fumes of black smoke spewed from underneath the hood. Carol had inspected the engine for all of two minutes when she'd realized that she'd had no idea what she was doing. On the verge of breaking down and calling a tow truck to just take the damn thing but to the house – where Ed would surely tell her what he thought of that idea with his fists later- she'd stopped short at the sound of another car pulling up behind the station wagon.

Turning, Carol saw a man climb out of the large pick-up truck, slightly younger than her. He was built well with slightly wavy brown hair that fell into his eyes – the eyes that she hadn't been able to stop staring at since that day. His eyes were her favorite feature; they were a piercing blue that could steal the breath from her lungs in an instant. So it wasn't entirely surprising when she'd completely missed the first words he'd ever spoken to her, she was just so mesmerized by those _eyes._

"Umm, mam?" he'd asked again. Carol quickly realized he'd been speaking to her and regained her composure. "Oh, sorry. What did you say?" she asked, a small smile coming to her lips as she stared at the stranger. "I was wonderin' if you needed help with your car?" he began. "I saw you standin' there and figured you could use a hand."

"Oh my gosh, that would be fantastic!" Carol exclaimed, relief flooding through her veins. He'd turned back to his pick-up, probably to retrieve his tool kit she'd guessed, when she'd called to him, "May I ask you your name?" The man turned back around and offered his hand to her, "Daryl. Daryl Dixon." She'd took his much larger hand in her own and immediately felt a strange warmth run through her body as she felt the callouses that lined his palms. "Carol," she'd replied. "Carol Peletier." She gave him another small smile before the man – Daryl – had awkwardly pulled his hand back. "I'll go get my tools," he'd grunted, heading back towards the bed of his truck.

If Carol guessed, she would say that's where their love affair had started. It might not have been as straight forward as a kiss, but she'd known since that day that Daryl had felt the warmth their hands together had created too. She was sure because that day he had given her the business card of the local auto repair shop he'd worked at, telling her to bring by the old station wagon another day when he could give it a proper tune-up. He'd told her a couple of months into their relationship that it had just been an excuse to see her again.

Pulled back to the hospital waiting room, Carol felt the tears she'd been fighting to hold back since she'd stepped foot into the building threatening to finally spill from her eyes. She wiped at the corners of her eyes furiously, refusing to let the tears fall. She'd made a promise to herself to continue to re-live these memories, no matter how painful it might be. She had to remember them – remember them for Daryl. Every detail that seemed insignificant at the time was now of the utmost importance.

Because there was a huge chance that Daryl would never actually be able to remember the memories himself.

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**A/N 2: This chapter is really the setup of the whole plot of the story. If you enjoyed this please review because the only way I'll continue this story is if I know there are some people who actually are interested to read more! Thanks! xx**

**Also, the title references the song "Dead in the Water" by Ellie Goulding and the beautiful piece that Stacey Tookey choreographed to it on SYTYCD, which in turn inspired this story. If you have a chance, I highly recommend a Youtube of it!**


	2. Accident

**A/N: I want to start off by saying thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! You guys have no idea how much your reviews mean to me! I'm glad you all enjoyed my stab at writing Caryl and are interested to read more!**

**The first chapter should be thought of as the prologue to the story, so this chapter will go back in time to before Carol was sitting in the hospital waiting room. From here on out though it will go in chronological order!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead. Never have, never will.**

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The aroma of coffee drifted upwards to Carol's nose, filling her nostrils with the scent of hazelnut. She sat on the back porch of the wooden cabin she now called home and watched the Georgia sunrise begin to peak over the mass of trees and smiled to herself. She hadn't felt a warmth like this in a long time, and it definitely wasn't coming from the mug clutched between her hands.

Carol couldn't remember the last time she had felt so content – so _safe_. Loved. For once, God seemed to be keeping his word.

It had seemed much too good to be true when she'd gotten the call from the Sheriff that Ed's Mercedes had collided head-on with a large pine when he'd been driving home from one of his "business meetings". Carol had known as soon as the words had escaped Rick Grimes' mouth that it really meant he'd been at his choice bar doing shots and had decided to drive home drunk; apparently even Ed wasn't invincible when it came to drunk driving.

Luckily, there was no need to plan a funeral – no one in town liked Ed and any relatives he'd had were either dead or Carol didn't know; her dead husband wasn't exactly the family-type. She'd simply had his body cremated; he didn't deserve any more than that out of her. Too many times had Carol felt the hard crack of his fist against her body. Too many times she had seen his eyes filled with a drunken rage. Too many times she had sat idly by and done nothing to stop the abuse her husband inflicted upon her. So why should she do more than let his body burn to a pile of ashes?

She smiled as she was pulled out of her reverie by the feeling of a pair of strong arms wrapping around her midsection, pulling her tightly against an equally large chest. Carol's heart began to thump rapidly where it rested in her ribcage as Daryl planted a trail of soft kisses down her neck and wrapped his fingers between hers. She looked over as his head finally came to rest on her shoulder, dark brown hair falling in his piercing blue eyes.

Carol planted a peck of her own on the tip of his nose before squirming free of his grasp. Picking up her coffee mug from where it rested on the porch railing, she turned to him and said, "I'll make you some breakfast." She headed inside and flipped on the light in Daryl's – _their_ – kitchen.

After Ed had died, Carol had been over the moon excited for more than obvious reasons – she could finally enjoy her relationship with Daryl without Ed's shadow constantly hanging over her shoulder. No longer did they have to keep their relationship a secret, only spending weekends together when Ed was out of town on a business trip. And now here she was, in Daryl's kitchen, cooking them breakfast. Living with him. Sharing the same bed as him. Sure, they still hadn't been intimate yet – he didn't even let her see him with his shirt off - , but simply occupying the same space as Daryl was more than enough for her. Never in her life did Carol think she would be so damn lucky as to have a man like him in her life. _Maybe I should play the lottery, _she thought to herself quickly.

Carol had only been living there for a little over a month, but already she felt more at home in Daryl's modest cabin than she ever had in the large farm house she occupied with Ed. Occupied, not lived. That's how Daryl had put it when he'd first brought up the idea of her moving in: "I know it ain't much, but I can't stand the thought of ya occupying that bastard's place any longer." He knew that the large farmhouse had never been her home, and she loved him even more for it.

Hearing the loud thunk of Daryl's boots coming down the hallway, she quickly spooned the scrambled eggs she'd been cooking onto two plates along with bacon and toast. Carol slid a plate in front of Daryl the moment he sat down. He gave her that crooked little grin he had that made her heart soar and began to immediately shovel food into his mouth.

"Someone's hungry," she mused quietly, sipping on the rest of her now lukewarm coffee. "Got a big day today." He grumbled, not even looking up from the plate of food in front of him. Since Carol had moved in Daryl had quit his part-time gig at the auto repair shop, deciding he needed a job that "provided better for his woman".

According to Daryl, this was going into the construction business with his buddy Caesar Martinez. They'd worked together at the auto shop and were now partners in their new business. As sweet as it was that Daryl had decided to finally pursue this new interest because of her, she still couldn't help but constantly worry over him. Construction could be a dangerous business and the thought of Daryl getting into some sort of life-threating accident had admittedly crossed her mind more than once.

Carol quickly shook the thought from her mind and began to eat; Daryl was more than capable of taking care of himself. "Shit." She looked over to see him rising from the kitchen table, staring at the clock on the wall as he did. "Didn't realize what time it was. Gonna be late." Carol stood up and followed him to the front door, grabbing his hand before he had the chance to twist the handle.

He turned around and looked at her, his brow furrowed in slight confusion at the worried look that graced her features. "Be careful." Carol whispered, her fingertips resting lightly on the stubble of his cheek. "You don't gotta worry about me," Daryl murmured quietly. His fixed her with a hard gaze, trying to convey his promise through his eyes. "I'm always gonna come back to ya. Ya can count on that." Carol gave him a small smile and rose to her tiptoes in order to plant a light kiss on his lips. Daryl gave her a quick nod and headed out the door, leaving Carol to worry over his well-being all day.

...

The groceries that filled her arms seemed to weigh five hundred pounds as Carol trudged up the steps of the cabin's front porch. She threw open the front door with as much force as she could manage with only one hand available, and almost went into cardiac arrest right then and there as a shrill shrieking filled her ears. Stumbling so she wouldn't drop the brown paper sacks, she dropped them onto the counter before the floor could become covered in an array of canned goods.

Carol rushed over to the phone and picked it up before it had the chance to go to voicemail. "Hello?" She was greeted with panicked breathing and rushed words, not even able to remotely tell who the speaker was on the other line. "Woah, I'm sorry, but you've gotta calm down. I didn't catch any of that." She said.

"Carol? Carol, its Martinez." Immediately Carol's heart dropped to her stomach, a wave of fear washing over her. _Daryl._ When she didn't answer, Martinez took the opportunity to begin speaking again. "Carol, there was…" he started, unable to finish the rest of his sentence. "Daryl, he…" The room seemed to grow smaller and smaller and Carol grabbed for a chair, not sure she wanted to hear the rest of this conversation. Her mind was racing a million miles per minute, not able to form one coherent sentence or thought on the matter. She gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, her knuckles stark white against the wood as she attempted to calm herself in vain; she suddenly wondered if her stomach was going to be able to keep down what she'd eaten for breakfast.

The only sounds her ears could pick up were that of Martinez's breathing over the phone as he waited to see if she would answer. "Carol…I'm sorry..." he stopped himself again. "Caesar, please, just spit it out!" Carol practically screamed through the line.

Martinez sighed and picked up where he had left off, "I'm sorry Carol, but…there was…there was an accident."

That's when the room finally caved in.

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**A/N 2: Yes, Martinez and Daryl are friends. Because I totally believe that they would be bros if they had been on the same side in the ZA. And Ed is dead because I figured I would be giving Carol and Daryl enough problems throughout this fic without Ed being thrown into the mix.**

**I hope you enjoyed! Reviews are always appreciated! :) **


	3. Numb

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who is following this story so far! Honestly I never though I would get one person to read this, let alone have anyone reviewing or following! So for that, thank you so so much!**

**Just a warning for this chapter, there is a bit of domestic violence in it, just a heads up.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead. (Unfortunately.)**

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Numb. Hands on the steering wheel, eyes on the road, foot on the gas. She was fully functioning, yet no emotion coursed through her body. Ice had frozen thick in her veins. She was numb.

The conversation kept repeating in her head, on an endless loop: '_"Carol…I'm sorry..."'._ Stop at a red light, wait for it to turn green, continue straight until Chestnut Avenue. '_"I'm sorry Carol, but…there was…there was an accident."' _Turn left on Maple Grove, pull car into hospital parking lot. Park car. Get out.

The fierce breeze nipped at the bare skin unprotected by the thin cardigan she wore, melting the ice slightly; just enough for her to get her thoughts together and walk through the glass doors of the hospital.

Luckily St. Peter's hospital was small enough that Carol found the ER easily. If it weren't for the ice that was freezing her insides together she would've run straight past the line of already waiting people that had queued in front of the check-in desk. She knew it was selfish, but she wanted nothing more than to march to the very front of that line and demand they take her to Daryl right away. Her mind was telling her that it was wrong, to stay put and not make a peep like she normally had in the past; her heart was telling her the exact opposite. Her heart was telling her that Daryl was hurt and he needed her there beside his bed like she was supposed to be.

Unfortunately her mind won and the ice froze her to her spot where she was left waiting helplessly as the minutes on the clock ticked by.

_They stopped almost five miles away from her house. Daryl pulled his pick-up truck onto the beaten trail where normally you would find teenagers parked in their cars having midnight make-out sessions, not a beat-up station wagon; it was the perfect hiding spot. Carol hopped out of the truck, Daryl following close behind as she opened the driver's side door. _

"_Hey," he grabbed her wrist and turned her gently around to face him. "You call me if the bastard so much as lays a finger on ya." She sighed and tried to find his eyes behind the wisps of brown hair that fell into his eyes, but he was too busy staring coldly at the fading purple bruises exposed ever-so slightly by the mid-length sleeves of her shirt. Noticing her apprehension, he growled and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, kicking a small rock with the toe of his boot. "I mean it. If ya need me to I can come over and kick the shit outta 'im first thing ya say." _

_Carol smiled slightly, knowing that Daryl's gesture was out of genuine concern for her; hell, she'd wanted to do the exact same thing a number of times. But she couldn't. Because even if by some chance she was able to escape while Ed was lost in one of his drunken stupors, he would find her. She knew deep in her heart that she and Daryl could run to the ends of the world and Ed would follow her there, just so he would always have the knowledge that she was his._

_She turned back sullenly to the station wagon, turning the key in the ignition and closing the door without looking at Daryl. It wasn't until she had almost hit the end of the dirt road that she finally glanced at the rearview mirror. Carol's heart almost broke seeing Daryl standing in the middle of the road, hands still in his pockets, looking confused and almost…hurt? _

_She couldn't blame him. She told him that she loved him and hated Ed, yet here she was again, driving down the same path back to the farmhouse._

_Carol's heart leapt into her throat at the sight of Ed's Mercedes parked in the driveway. She glanced frantically at the digital clock of the station wagon: 6:00, like it should've read. Never once had Carol gotten home after Ed; she always planned her arrival times to the T so that she could rush through the door with just enough time to cook Ed his "welcome back" dinner. _

_At this point, there wasn't a damn thing she could do. Her mind was telling her to run, run in the opposite direction away from the miserable possibilities__ of what Ed would do to her the moment she walked through the front door. Carol looked fearfully at the porch window and groaned, seeing the dim glow of a lamp behind the pale curtains. Ed was waiting for her, she knew. And no matter how many beers he had already downed, his ears were fine-tuned to the sounds of the station wagon; there was no way in hell he didn't know that she was home._

_Gathering herself and putting on the best smile she could in the face of what she was about to do, Carol trudged up the front porch steps and unlocked the door. The hallway was dark, illuminated only by the light of the lamp several feet away. When Ed's voice didn't greet her immediately at the sound of the lock clicking back in place, she hoped for one foolish second that maybe he had just fallen asleep. "Where you been?" No such luck._

_Heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird, Carol took three timid steps into the living room. Ed was seated in his recliner, facing away from her, staring blankly at the barely audible TV. "I uh, went over to the Grimes' house. I was visiting Lori. She needed some help with a few errands, being pregnant and all." Carol tried to put all the confidence she had into those words; she needed Ed to believe her. She tried to slip past the recliner and go to the kitchen, but he grabbed her wrist. Tightly._

"_Wrong answer," he growled. She could feel his fingernails digging into the skin of her arm, his grip tightening. "Turn around when I'm talkin' to ya, woman." She flinched as he pulled her sharply around to face him, practically pulling her shoulder of its socket in the process. "You wanna try and answer my question again? 'Cause I already called the Grimes' place, and they said you haven't been there all day."_

_Carol was shaking now, mind racing as she tried to think of another plausible excuse, one that would at least lessen the beating she was sure to receive at this point. "Ed," she tried. "Please, just…just let me fix you dinner. We can have a nice evening…" She didn't get to finish her sentence before she felt the first blow. It was to her face, right to her jaw. She whimpered in pain and clutched the side of her face as stars burst behind her eyes. _

_Ed grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled her close to him, hot breath in her face as he screamed, "Now tell me where you really been! You been sneakin' around on me!? Huh!? Stupid bitch!" He shoved her against the coffee table and she felt the sharp corners dig into her sides. Carol fell to the ground and gasped in pain. Tears were streaming down her face as she begged, "Ed! P..p..please!" This only served to infuriate him more. His fingers wrapped into the thin layer of her short hair and he pulled her roughly off the ground, spinning her around to face him. "Don't ya dare try an' beg me! You did this to yourself!" And with that, he threw her once more against the table and walked to the front door, slamming it on his way out. _

_Carol sat huddled on the ground, curled into herself, until she heard the engine of Ed's car disappear in the distance. Body shaking with sobs, she managed to pull herself from the wood floor. She pulled the small cell phone out of her pocket and dialed his number._

_Barely a ring had passed before Daryl answered. "Carol!? Is everythin' alright!?" he gasped out. _

"_Daryl." Tears shook her body once more. "Please, I…I need you."_

"Miss?" Carol looked up from her hands in surprise to see a petite woman standing next to her, clipboard in hand. "Are you Miss…Peletier?" she read off her clipboard. She glanced up and smiled at Carol, though it fake and not at all genuine; it didn't reach all the way up to her green eyes.

Carol nodded. "Well I can take you back to Mr. Dixon now." She motioned to the hallway, presumably where the patients' rooms were. Carol shot up from her seat and began following her. For the moment, the ice had completely melted with the thought of finally getting to see Daryl.

The nurse led her to a room, numbered 103. "He's right inside. Dr. Greene should be with you momentarily to go over some things." And with that, she was off, blonde curly hair bouncing as she went. Carol opened the door and was assaulted by a pair of arms grabbing her around the waist. "Carol! Thank God you're finally here!" Rough hands pulled her back to arms-length and she was greeted by the worried face of Martinez. But it wasn't his face she wanted to see right now. She pulled away from his grip to turn around and look at the man lying in the hospital bed.

It felt like she was being hit with a ton of bricks; there he was, in front of her, alive and breathing. But seeing Daryl laying there, eyes closed, and slightly bloodied gauze wrapped around his head, everything felt wrong. This wasn't her Daryl, the Daryl that had saved her countless times from Ed's abuse; the Daryl that had held her in his arms as she'd cried herself to sleep after a particularly brutal beating; the Daryl that had kissed her bruises and made the whole world seem like it was alright. No, the Daryl in front of her looked like an injured little boy, broken and scarred.

Carol felt like her feet were moving through quicksand as she moved to the side of the bed. She reached a hand over and lightly brushed back the brown hair that was falling into his eyes with her fingertips. "Oh Daryl…" she whispered. She clutched his hand between her own and turned back to Martinez. "How did this happen?"

Martinez moved to the other side of Daryl's bed where a chair sat and collapsed in it, clearly exhausted from the emotional trauma of the day. He rubbed his face with his hands and sighed, looking to her. "We were over at Dale Horvath's patching up the roof of his farmhouse. We needed some more wood so Daryl went to climb down and get it and…he just…he just slipped Carol. Next thing I know he's fallen fifty feet and I'm screaming like a madman to get 911 on the phone." Carol gasped and felt the tears she'd been fighting to keep back all day start to prick at the back of her eyes. "Doctor's positive he at least has a concussion. They ran some tests already. Doc's supposed to be back and give some more details on those a little later."

She nodded and cupped Daryl's cheek in her hand. Glancing over at Martinez she said, "Thank you Caesar. I don't know what I would do without you. Daryl might be dead if you weren't there." Martinez shrugged it off, but she made a mental note to do more for the man later to show him exactly how grateful she was.

Martinez got up from his chair and walked over to her. He wrapped her in one more small hug before he pulled back. "I'm gonna head on home now. Wife's probably worried I ain't home yet." The man squeezed her shoulder and looked her directly in the eyes. "You call me when they tell you what's wrong. But don't worry your pretty little head too much. If there's anything I know about Daryl, it's that he'll push through this. Man's tough as nails." Carol gave Martinez a small smile before he headed out the door, a small thud the only way she knew he was actually gone; she was too busy looking back at Daryl.

With Martinez gone, the tears that had been threatening to spill over her eyes finally came. She cried quietly as she clutched Daryl's hand. After a good fifteen minutes, she finally stopped and scrubbed at her eyes furiously with the back of her hand, mentally scolding herself. Carol leaned over the edge of the bed and placed a kiss on Daryl's temple.

After all of the times that he had saved her, she had to be the strong one now; he needed her now more than she had ever needed him.

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**A/NJ 2: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Reviews are always appreciated. :)**


	4. Awake

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who is continuing to follow/favorite/review this story! It really means a lot to me and gives me the push to keep writing!**

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The sound of the hospital room door squeaking on its hinges awoke Carol with a start. She pushed herself up quickly from where she was laying, her head against Daryl's chest as she leaned over the edge of the hospital bed. She turned to see Dr. Greene with one foot in the door, an amused smile on his face as he looked at the couple in front of him. "I can come back in a little bit if you'd like" he said quietly. Carol blushed furiously and shook her head. She hadn't meant to fall in asleep; in fact, she'd been quite determined to stay awake until the very minute that the results of Daryl's tests were in. But pure exhaustion had taken over after forty-five minutes of waiting in utter silence, and she'd laid her head against Daryl's chest with the idea of only closing her eyes for a few moments. But then the gentle rhythm of his breathing as his chest rose and fell had lulled her to sleep and she was out like a light.

"No, I wanna know now," Carol said determinedly. "Might as well go ahead and rip the Band-Aid off." Dr. Greene gave her a small nod and pulled the chair that Martinez had previously occupied to the foot of Daryl's bed so that he was seated directly in front of her. Carol sat back down in her seat, her foot tapping against the tile floor in a nervous pattern. She glanced back to Dr. Greene and saw him pull a small clipboard from the inside of the white coat he wore over his regular clothes – a blue woolen flannel and khakis.

He began flipping through the pages of test results, re-reading them silently to himself before he spoke.

"Before we begin, Dr. Greene," Carol started, addressing the man in front of her. "I want to – "

"Please, call me Herschel," the doctor said, cutting her off before she could finish the sentence. "Dr. Greene was my father."

Carol gave a small chuckle, noticing the slightly mischievous twinkle in the older man's eyes. The longer he sat in front of her, the more and more she started wondering how this man was even a doctor to begin with; if anything, he reminded her more of Santa Clause. Keeping that thought to herself, Carol looked up at the sound of Herschel sighing as he set the clipboard on the ground beside him. "I want to thank you," she finished. Herschel waved off her thanks. "I'm a doctor. Helping people is what I do dear."

With that, Herschel continued on to the matter at hand. "Well," he began, "when Daryl was brought in we were able to obviously treat any injuries he sustained during the fall. He's quite a lucky guy that the worst of it was just a couple of broken ribs and scrapes. With the fall he took, it could've been a lot worse."

Carol nodded and didn't speak. Her eyes weren't on Herschel as he spoke, but rather on Daryl, still sleeping peacefully beside her. If it weren't for the fact that they were in a hospital, she could almost imagine that they were in their bed at home, waiting for the sun to rise above the trees before she woke him.

When he was met with silence, Herschel continued. "We ran a few tests too. CAT scans and such since he was in and out of consciousness when your friend first brought him in." Carol's heart picked up its pace than as she waited for the rest. "He seems to have suffered a pretty severe concussion."

The ice trickled back into Carol's chest and she dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands to keep herself from breaking down right then and there. The tears that she was so sure would have run out by now welled up in her eyes again, but she would not – could not – let them fall. Not here, not in front of this man who was a perfect stranger. Not when she would make a fool of herself. Not when she needed to keep everything together for Daryl.

Choking back the emotion that she was sure was evident in her voice, Carol said quietly, "What does that mean? Is he going to wake up?" Herschel nodded vigorously; the certainty in his face was comforting. "I'm absolutely positive of that. When? My best guess would be within the week." For that moment Carol let herself breathe. She would have Daryl back soon, that much was certain. "However, there could be some side effects of the head injury," Herschel stated quickly, obviously not wanting Carol to get her hopes up too high. "But for right now, I don't want you worrying yourself with the 'what ifs'. We'll worry about those when he actually comes to."

The doctor stood up to leave, gathering his clipboard from the ground. Before he opened the door, he turned back to Carol and gave her a stern, almost fatherly glare. "And you need to get some rest missy. You look like you haven't slept in days." And with that, he was gone, leaving Carol alone to try and thaw the ice.

_They were as far out from Atlanta as you could get, the bustle of mid-afternoon traffic barely audible in the air. "God Daryl, I'm really terrible at this!" Carol said, laughing as she reeled in the line of her fishing pole, yet another bite-less hook at the end. "No ya ain't. Takes more practice than one day of me tryin' to teach ya how to fish."_

_Carol shook her head, knowing that he was just trying to make her feel better. She was, in every sense of the word, terrible. _

_Growing up, she had never done outdoorsy types of things like this. And there was certainly no way in hell Ed would ever take her on one of his fishing trips. So when Daryl had invited her to go, she was more than delighted to take him up on his offer. The timing was perfect, considering Ed would be in the city until the next morning. To Daryl, this was his idea of a date._

_Throwing out her line to give the fishing another go, Carol looked over her shoulder at Daryl. "So, who taught you how to fish?" He shifted slightly in the seat of the boat, looking more than a little uncomfortable. Figuring it best to drop it, Carol turned back to her fishing pole. But to her surprise, Daryl's answer came. "My dad did."_

_Carol turned completely around then, all thoughts of fishing gone. She was surprised Daryl had answered her; normally, every time she asked him anything about his family he shut down the conversation without so much as a word on the matter. Carol smiled to herself; this was progress in their relationship._

_Wanting him to go on, Carol said quietly, "How old were you?" She knew the only way to get him to tell her the whole story was if she gave him a little push. Daryl sighed. "Guess I was about eight. Was one of the few times my daddy actually did somethin' with me." Carol took his hand, nudging him further into the memory. She had been yearning for so long to hear just a little piece of his past, to know why he was so skittish around her at the beginning, why he flinched when she tried to touch him more than his boundaries permitted; now that he felt more comfortable, she didn't want to pass up on the moment. _

"_It's probably one of my best memories of the bastard. He took me out on a real nice day, kinda like today. Sky was blue, not a cloud in sight. Man taught me everythin'. How to throw out the line, reel it in. Even how to be patient when it came to the fish bitin', which was real surprisin' comin' from my dad."_

_The image of a tiny Daryl came to Carol's mind, all shaggy brown hair and blue eyes. She could picture it perfectly, him sitting in the very boat they were in now as he waited on the edge of his seat for a fish to bite. "Had to have spent a good three hours out on the water that day. 'Course, my ol' man forgot to bring sunscreen so I got fried, but hell, if it wasn't worth it to have just that one day with him."_

_At the look of longing in Daryl's eyes, Carol wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close to her. Her actions thanked him quietly for sharing such a personal part of himself with her, one that she knew hadn't been easy to share. The man tensed for a moment, but soon after his arms came around her too. They sat like that in silence, giving each other the comfort that they both needed, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. _

At the sound of a groan coming from somewhere near her, Carol pulled herself from her reverie. She looked around the room, trying to gauge where the noise had come from. No one else was there, and while the TV was on the sound of the Channel 6 news could barely be heard above the hums and whirs of the monitors beside Daryl's bed. _Daryl._

She whipped her head around and her heart jolted back to life when she saw blue eyes staring straight at her, a dazed expression on his face.

"Daryl! You're awake!" Carol burst from her chair, almost knocking it over in the process. She pulled Daryl close to her in an embrace she was almost sure was squeezing the air from her lungs, but God, she didn't care. He was awake, he was in her arms, and she could finally let herself _breathe._

"Daryl, I was so worried," she said, sobs wracking her body as she pulled back to take a closer look at his face. "When Martinez called me – "She cut herself short at the puzzled expression on Daryl's face. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Where am I?" He looked around confusedly; the surrounding's not seeming to process in his brain. "You're in the hospital. You had an accident." Carol gave him the abbreviated version of the story, sure he would rather hear the rest when he was more well rested.

She expected the confusion to have disappeared from his face, but Daryl still looked unsure of himself as he turned back to face her. "Daryl, you're scaring me." Carol breathed out. A sense of dread took hold of her body then as she realized that this time, the confusion wasn't directed towards the surroundings, the situation, the injuries – but at her. "Please, tell me what's wrong!"

Daryl shook his head and looked away. "I – I don't know who you are."

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**A/N 2: Oooh, cliffhanger! Hope you guys enjoyed! Reviews are always appreciated!:)**


	5. Need

**A/N: The response I'm continuing to get on this story is incredible! Thank you to each and every one of you for your support, it really means the world to me!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or any of its characters.**

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The rush of cold water against Carol's face jolted her body back to life, sending blood rushing back through her veins. Her hands were steeled against the white ceramic sink in front of her, fingers ghostly white as she tried desperately to make herself _breathe._ Her breaths were coming out in short, shallow gasps and her eyes were bloodshot from tears. Everything felt like it was falling apart right in front of her and there wasn't a thing she could do about it.

A light tap on the door echoed throughout the small bathroom followed by a barely audible voice, "Miss Peletier? It's the nurse. Dr. Greene would like to speak to you if you're ready." Carol tugged furiously on the roll of toilet paper sitting next to the sink and began dabbing at her eyes. "I'll be there in just a moment." She managed to choke out, finally daring a glance at herself in the mirror.

God, she looked a mess.

Hair was unkempt, red rimmed her eyes, and light purple circles ghosted underneath her lower lids from lack of sleep; in short, she looked like absolute shit. Sighing, she stuffed a handful of toilet paper into her jeans pocket, sure she would be needing them later.

Carol turned to the door of the bathroom and felt another wave of fear and panic wash over her. Did she really want to do this? Did she really want to open that door and look into Daryl's eyes again, see the fear and confusion that they held? Did she really want to let her heart get ripped into even tinier pieces as she saw the man she loved so dearly say that he didn't know who she was? Of course she did. This was _Daryl_. The man that had unknowingly saved her when it had felt like Ed's iron grip on her was unbreakable. She would cross the Earth and back for him, because she loved him. This should be easy.

But unfortunately it wasn't.

Before she had the chance to back down again, Carol gripped the silver door handle and flung the door open without looking back. Immediately, her eyes fell upon Herschel, positioned in the exact same spot he had occupied only a few hours prior. As she slowly entered the room, Herschel stood from his seat and offered it to Carol quietly. She nodded her thanks to him before sinking into the chair, grateful for the chance to get off her feet; she was unsure of how much longer her legs could hold her weight before they gave out from complete exhaustion.

Forcing her gaze away from the ever-awake Daryl still lying in the bed in front of her, Carol spoke up softly, "So, is this one of those side affects you told me not to worry about Dr. Greene?" The doctor looked sheepish as he fumbled for the right words to appease the woman: "Well…well yes, actually." Carol sighed and gripped the bridge of her nose between shaking fingertips. She didn't speak though, silently urging Herschel to continue; she needed to know the full extent of this "side effect" now, receive the blow and get it over with so she could process the information and move on.

"It's quite common with head injuries this severe that a type of amnesia occurs after," Herschel continued. "Early memories will still be intact while those that have occurred recently will be completely wiped out."

At this, Daryl seemed to snap out of whatever shock he had been in before, because he finally spoke up: "Wait. So I do know ya?" Carol glanced up from where her gaze was still firm on her lap and saw Daryl staring questioningly at her. In that moment, he seemed so lost – like a confused little boy who had wandered off from his mother in the grocery store. The look his blue eyes held broke her heart completely in two. She nodded, once, twice. "Yes. Yes, you do."

Carol didn't say anymore, simply turned her eyes back to hands, clasped together as they rested in her lap; if she looked at Daryl any longer the tears would escape her.

"Will I ever remember?" This time Daryl's question was aimed towards Herschel. The man nodded. "It's more than likely," he started. "The type of amnesia associated with head injuries is not permanent. Usually it lasts for an extended period of time, but eventually the memories will start to come back. How long this will take though, we can't be certain." At this, Carol's heart started up again and she felt hope seep into her veins. "What if I helped him remember? Took him to places where important events occurred? Would that help the memories come back?"

Herschel shrugged and seemed to contemplate the idea for a moment. "Well, I have heard that that type of exposure can be beneficial in helping the subconscious piece together memories," he said thoughtfully. "That is, of course, if Daryl would agree to that." Carol knew it was crazy, knew it wouldn't be easy, but she _needed_ him to remember her. She loved him, and hell if she was going to give that up.

Daryl's eyes had never left her the whole time they'd been talking, almost as if assessing if she was telling the truth. Hesitating slightly, Carol lifted a hand from her lap and gradually placed it on top of Daryl's. The man tensed for a moment, hand balling into a fist underneath her palm. But then, their eyes met; blue looked into blue, the same shared fear present in both. And she knew then in that moment, she was already helping him to remember; not two seconds had passed before she saw the expression in his eyes start to change. Slowly, the fear turned to hope as the warmth they had each felt in their hearts the first day they had met shot through their bodies.

Daryl finally broke the stare, seeming to remember that Herschel was still in their presence. He nodded, and Carol noticed that while her grasp wasn't firm, his hand still hadn't left hers. "I wanna do it. I need to remember her."

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**A/N 2: I know that this chapter is quite short, and honestly I wasn't planning on ending it where I did. But once I started writing it I really liked where it left off so I decided to keep it there. **

**I hope you enjoyed and reviews are always appreciated!:)**


	6. Home

**A/N: 2 updates in one week! Woohoo! The writing monster came upon me and I just had to get this out. I tried something a little different with this chapter, so I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or any of it's characters.**

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Home. Today was the day that she would be able to bring Daryl _home_. Herschel had finally been able to convince her to go back to the cabin, take a shower, and sleep in the comfort of her own bed. She had been hesitant to leave Daryl at first, but at the same time she didn't want to be overbearing. The man barely knew her after all; sitting by his bedside while he slept wasn't going to change that.

So Carol had reluctantly returned home, to the pine trees, warm dirt, and the whisper of autumn wind as it kissed her skin. But it all felt so empty without Daryl there. As she'd lain in her bed, _their_ bed, that first night without him, the space beside her had echoed the same vast emptiness that she'd felt in her heart. She had returned to the house seeking rest and had received none in return as she'd tossed and turned throughout the night, nightmares of Ed wracking her brain without the warmth of Daryl's body beside her.

The most terrifying part of that night was that the dreams seemed so real. Ed was there, in the log cabin, standing over her as she cowered on the wood floor and begged, pleaded with him not to hurt her again. He had ignored her words and repeated the same thing he always said when he was giving her a beating: "Don't ya dare try an' beg me! You did this to yourself!" With that, she'd felt the sharp crack of the back of his hand across her cheek and she had fallen to the ground, curling into herself as she clutched her face. Ed cackled, finding the weakness of the woman in front of him utterly amusing. But when he'd caught sight of the hot tears leaving thick trails down her cheeks, the amusement evaporated from his eyes. He'd let out a low, guttural growl and twisted his meaty fingers into the fabric of her t-shirt, lifting her off the ground as he did. Carol had shrieked and fought desperately to pull away, swinging her feet into what she'd thought was the direction of his shins. She'd barely been able to see through the thick pool of tears swimming in front of her blue eyes, but God, she just had to get away. Finally her hands had felt purchase on the surface of his forearms and she'd ripped into his skin with such force her fingernails burned. Ed had screamed and tore his hands from her, clutching at his arm as fresh blood seeped from the long, angular scratch marks. He'd blanched at the wound, then back at her, not believing that the stupid bitch had enough guts in her to try such a thing. Luckily, Carol had been able to stun him long enough to completely disentangle herself from his body. She'd been just about to run away when the sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door kept her glued to her spot. Her heart had started beating rapidly in her chest, and she was almost afraid it was going to burst from where it rested in her ribcage right then and there. _Dear God, please don't let it be him. Let it be anyone but him._

The white door had flung open and in had stepped Daryl Dixon and her legs had just about given out from underneath her but she couldn't let Ed see what this was doing to her. At the sound of Daryl's boots coming down the long hallway, Ed had looked up from the fresh blood still flowing profusely from his arm. "Hey Carol, you here? I saw the care in the driveway and –". Daryl had stopped mid-sentence as he'd entered the living room. Because there standing in front of him, was the man Carol knew he hated more than anything, anyone else in the world. And there she was, with tears still fresh on her face and a bruise exactly the size of Ed's hand forming on her cheek. Ed had broken the tension in the room by finally speaking, his voice coming out terrifyingly soft and raspy: "Who the fuck are you?"

Daryl had practically been shaking, the anger boiling up inside of him ready to explode. His fists were clenched tightly by his side and he assessed the dirt bag in front of him, the one that Carol was afraid of, the one that had been _hurting her_. "I'm the one that's gonna protect her," he'd said, looking at Carol, a strong determination in his eyes that she'd never seen there before. With the passing between the two, Ed had seemed to register something, his brain processing what was really going on between Carol and Daryl in that one moment. "So this the prick you been sneaking around on me with!? Huh, bitch!?" Carol simply whimpered in response and edged closer to Daryl. Before she'd been able to fling her arms around him, Ed had pushed her forcefully to the ground and was on Daryl before the man had even had a fighting chance. He'd throw Daryl against a wall, his fist making contact with Daryl's face once, twice, three times. Daryl had tried so hard to push the man off of him, but Ed was too strong, too _massive_. It had seemed like no matter where Daryl's own fist had made contact, the man was unstoppable. Sobs wracked Carol's body as she'd pulled herself desperately off of the floor, rushing to the two men in front of her. She'd lashed at Ed, clawing at any available space not protected by his clothing. But she was nothing compared to him; a kitten to a lion.

Finally, Daryl's hands had fallen back to his side and he'd fell to the ground, unconscious, face torn to a bloody pulp. Carol had collapsed next to him, sobbing, clutching the front of his flannel. "Daryl, wake up! Daryl, please!" she'd begged. She'd grabbed ahold of his shoulders, shook them, trying desperately to make him come back to her; she couldn't face Ed alone. Not now. Not after what had just happened.

But his eyes had remained closed and she was left with Ed's shadow looming over her.

When Carol had awoken with a start, breathing heavy and frantic, she'd bolted out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom. She'd splashed copious amounts of freezing water on her face, trying to process the fact that no matter how vivid what she'd just experienced might've seemed, it was all just a horrible dream. When she'd climbed back under the warmth of her comforter, she'd given up on attempting to fall back to sleep; instead, she lay and watched the night sky through a thin layer of curtains, the stars slowly turning to a morning sky in bright shades of pink and orange.

She hoped when Daryl got home that the nightmares would go away.

…

Daryl Dixon didn't know what home was. According to the woman – Carol – who seemed to always be by his bedside, it was with her. A cabin, she'd called it, one that he owned and she'd just recently moved into. Because apparently she lived with him. Apparently, she was with him. As in _with _him. Shared the same bed as him. And he had no idea what any of that even meant because he couldn't fuckin' remember it.

When he'd first opened his eyes and seen her there beside him, face all bright and glowin' when she'd seen 'im awake, the only word he'd been able to find that described that feeling was déjà vu. Like she was important to 'im somehow but he couldn't place why. 'Course, it had all made sense – as much as it could – when that doctor had come in and explained to him what had happened, how he'd fallen off of a roof and gotten a damn concussion and now couldn't remember nothin'. Sure, he still remembered important things, like his ma, Merle, and unfortunately his daddy (cause he sure wouldn'ta given a damn if he forgot that bastard). And he remembered stupid shit from his childhood, like the name of his pretty third grade teacher or the road where Merle used to meet his dealer for crystal meth. And lucky him, he even remembered the story behind each and every scar that was etched onto his shoulders and his chest, his back and his torso – hell, those memories were crystal-fuckin'-clear. The rest of the memories though, were like grasping for air, out of reach and untouchable. No matter how many times he tried to place why Carol was so important to 'im, it was like his mind hit a mental brick wall. And damn, if that wasn't frustrating.

Daryl zipped up his leather jacket and watched the clock above the door, fingers playing restlessly with the sheets of his bed. She was supposed to be there in half an hour to take him "home". And he didn't even know if he trusted or believed any of what she'd said. The only thing that had cemented his going with her was the knowledge that he truly didn't have anywhere else to go. Merle was in jail and his parents were dead; she was his only option. If he was being completely honest with himself though, he _wanted_ to go with her. He yearned to find out why there was that feeling that she meant somethin' to 'im. And with that thought, a nurse appeared in the doorway, the handles of a wheelchair grasped in her hands. He had to keep himself from groaning out loud when he recognized the curly blonde hair.

Her name was Andrea, and she'd been flirting with Daryl for the last three days. He hadn't seen a single nurse besides her since his stay in the hospital. She was the only one that had brought 'im his meals, helped him to the bathroom, and changed the bandage around his temple. And it was getting to be annoying as hell.

"Mrs. Peletier is here to take you home_ Daryl_!" she squealed, putting special emphasis on his name. She rolled the wheelchair to where he was sitting, a bounce in her step that was way too perky for ten in the morning. Daryl eyed the wheelchair down and stood up. "Can walk just fine on my own," he mumbled. Andrea folded her arms across her chest and batted her eyelashes at him in what he guessed was supposed to be an endearing fashion. "Now Daryl, you really shouldn't be walking around right now, especially since you've just been discharged." He shook his head vigorously in disagreement; he didn't need some stupid _chair_ to help him walk. Andrea ignored his request and walked behind him, placing her hands firmly on his shoulders and getting way too far into his personal space for his liking. She was surprisingly strong and was able to navigate him to a sitting position in the chair, much to his dismay. "Hospital procedure," she said, cupping her hand over her mouth and leaning down to whisper in his ear. Daryl jerked away from the close contact but Andrea didn't even seem to notice. She simply smirked at him and placed her hands back on the handles of the wheelchair and began their descent down the hallway.

…

Carol heard them coming before she saw them. Her ears registered the voice of the perky blonde nurse that seemed to be assigned to Daryl above the din of the hospital waiting room. She'd already filled out all of the paperwork required for Daryl's discharge and was more than eager to get him home. They appeared around the corner and Carol had to keep herself from letting out a giggle at the sight of Daryl being rolled to her in a wheelchair.

The nurse was bouncing behind him, chattering away as Daryl looked more than unhappy at the fact that he was being pushed around by her. Carol just covered the grin that she was sure was present on her face and walked over to the two. She offered to take the handles of the wheelchair from the nurse. The nurse handed them over in a way that Carol thought might be a little too reluctant. She ignored it though, said thanks, and wheeled Daryl just outside the doors of the hospital. Once they were safely in the parking lot, away from the prying eyes of the nurse, she let go of the wheelchair. "I don't think you want me pushing you in that thing anymore," she said quietly. Daryl stood up from the wheelchair and nodded his thanks to her. "Damn nurse wouldn't let me leave the room if I wasn't in it," he said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans. Carol shrugged and gestured to the station wagon. "Come on. Time to get you home."

…

As they pulled up to the log cabin, Daryl felt oddly nervous. Maybe it was because the car ride there had been in absolute silence or maybe it was because he'd had no idea what to expect when he'd stepped foot into that station wagon; he wasn't sure which.

Carol pulled into the small dirt driveway and turned off the engine, glancing at him with a nervous look in her eyes. "Uh…are you ready?" He could practically feel the anxiety rolling off of her in waves. It was making him uncomfortable. Unfortunately, his feet felt like they were glued to the floor of the car, disabling him from the ability to bolt out the door. Truthfully, this whole situation was making him uncomfortable; coming here with her, being with her, walking into a house that he didn't even know was his. It was all terrifying and at this point, he would be happy to just sleep in the car while she went on inside. But he was a Dixon, and Dixon's weren't no pussies; his daddy had beaten that into him as soon as he was old enough to walk. So instead of staying in his seat, he threw the station wagon door open without a word to her and began stomping up the front yard.

Carol quickly followed behind him. She had barely unlocked the door when Daryl pushed it open with both hands and walked into a small kitchen. The lingering scent of a home-cooked breakfast filled his nose as he looked around. His brain was on overdrive now, trying to process the images in front of him as he slowly began his tour into the living room. The whole place gave him that overwhelming feeling of fuckin' déjà vu. His head hurt as his brain tried desperately to grasp at the tendrils of memories flickering into his mind. It all ached and was way too much, so he sat down on the dingy sofa and grasped his head between his hands.

He didn't even know Carol had walked into the room until he heard the creak of the floorboard underneath her feet. He glanced up and unwound his fingers from where they were twisted into his hair, sighing. "Are you alright?" she asked quietly. Her fingers were playing nervously with the hem of her sweater. "Yeah. Jus' need a minute," he answered. The pounding in his head blocked out the patter of her feet as she ran out the front door of the house.

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**A/N 2: Hope you guys liked it! Reviews are always appreciated! :)**


	7. Normal

**A/N: I love each and every one of you this is continuing to give me support on this story! It really means so much to me! I personally really enjoyed writing this chapter and I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out (I'm never completely happy with my writing). So I really hope you guys like it!**

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The moment that Carol's feet hit the soft dirt, her legs gave out from underneath her. The first sensation she felt as her body made contact with the ground was the feeling of her wet cheeks brushing against the grass. She had tried so hard to be strong, to put on a brave face and act like she was made of stone, untouchable and unbreakable in the face of pain. But stepping into the house, _their_ house, had made it all suddenly seem much more real than it had before that moment. She'd been a fool and tricked herself into letting herself believe that bringing Daryl back to a place that they'd both shared together would magically make everything better; like the fairy godmother in Cinderella turning a pumpkin into a carriage, it would just happen. And then she'd looked into Daryl's eyes and the sadness and the anger that she'd been fighting so desperately to keep locked up inside finally bubbled to the surface – because in that moment it was like she could feel the pain and confusion that was clouding in Daryl's mind. It had been rolling off of his body in waves and it was too much for her to bear.

So instead, she'd bolted out the door the second his head was turned away. And now she lay in the dirt, tears rolling down the bridge of her nose, stomach wound in tight knots. Carol's mind was screaming at her to get up, to brush herself off before Daryl came outside wondering where she was and instead found her face down in the grass. But no, she decided she'd rather just lay there for a few more moments. She'd stopped crying at least, thank God, and the feeling of the cool soil against her skin was strangely soothing.

The '_creak_' of the back door hit Carol's ears. Before she even had time to push herself into a sitting position, the echo of Daryl's boots against the wooden porch came from behind her. "Carol?" he asked, sounding a little more than hesitant. She lifted the upper half of her body from the ground so she was resting on her knees, back still to Daryl so she wouldn't have to look him in the eyes. "Why don't ya come back inside?" She whipped around then, taken aback by Daryl's open invitation. Carol could see he was uncomfortable; his shoulders were hunched in on himself and he was gnawing on a thumbnail – a nervous habit, she'd learned a while ago. She could hardly imagine the amount of effort it must've taken him to come out here and talk some sense into her. The poor man had barely been home fifteen minutes and already she was having a meltdown.

He must've noticed the quizzical look on her face, because he continued: "Look, I – I can't promise ya that everythin's just gonna go back ta the way it used ta be," Daryl said. "Hell, I don' even know what _this_ is." He added, gesturing between the two of them. Carol looked down then, fingers playing absently with a dead blade of grass. She could hear Daryl shifting nervously on his feet, probably trying to decide if he should continue. "I'm gonna try my best though. To get whatever it was we had back." Daryl finished quietly. Her heart quickened it's pace then, but she continued to look down, away from Daryl's eyes. She heard him sigh then and turn away, back into the house she presumed. Before he was in the door, his steps paused. "I just wanna let ya know that I trust ya. I know you're gonna help me find my way back." With that, the door slammed shut behind him and Carol was left alone in the grass.

…

She finally came back inside two hours later, and headed straight for the kitchen. Carol could hear the distant hum of the TV on in the living room, where Daryl was no doubt waiting for to see if she would come back inside, to see if her sudden meltdown was over.

She bent down to peek inside the small cupboards that lined the kitchen counter and began pulling out an array of cooking utensils, setting them on the counter as she went. At the sound of the crashing coming from the kitchen, Daryl slowly entered the room and stood just inside the doorway. Over the deafening clutter of silver pots and pans making contact with the marble counter, Carol heard Daryl's inquiring shout: "What're ya doin'?" Without looking up, Carol headed to the refrigerator and pulled out an almost-expired package of hamburger meat. She pulled a pan from the pile on the counter and placed it on the stove, turned the heat on, and began making palm-sized patties with the ground beef. "If you're going to try and make this work, so will I." she finally answered.

As she tossed four of the patties onto the pan, Carol could almost feel Daryl's eyes boring into the back of her skull, most likely trying to comprehend what had changed in the mere two hours since he'd left her alone in the yard. "Me cooking dinner for you is normal," she continued, finally turning away from the sizzling hamburgers in front of her. Carol finally allowed her eyes to rest on Daryl's, her favorite shade of blue staring questioningly at her. "Dinner should be ready at six. I'm making hamburgers and potatoes." she finished, the confidence in her own voice surprising her. Daryl just nodded and didn't question her, instead turning away to go back to the program still running in the living room.

Carol nodded in satisfaction and turned back to the still-cooking meat in front of her. Hopefully this would be some sort of progress.

…

Dinner was ready at exactly six o' clock, just like Carol had said it would be. She supposed it was still a habit she latched onto from her days married to Ed; if dinner was even a minute later than she'd promised him, she could always count on the fact that a beating was sure to follow. After Ed had finished his meal of course.

Daryl stood awkwardly across from her, just staring at the table as if the idea of sitting down and sharing a meal with a member of the opposite sex was a foreign concept. In fact, it probably was; he'd told her not too long after they'd met that she was the first woman he'd ever been with. It had made her smile at the time. Now it just made her sad, as she was reminded of a life he may never get back.

Carol pushed the thought away and sat, hoping Daryl would get the idea. He sat then too, but still didn't move even when his body had come in contact with the seat. His whole body was rigid, arms pressed tightly to his sides. "I made your favorite!" Carol offered, trying to keep her voice cheery as she gestured to the plates placed in front of them. She slowly grabbed a hamburger patty from one of the plates, placing it on her own along with a spoonful of potatoes. Daryl did the same. It was literally like a game of Follow the Leader; Carol took a bite, Daryl took a bite. It was like he was afraid of going against whatever unspoken routine they'd shared in the past, the one he no longer remembered. The thought touched Carol and pained her all at the same time.

After a few moments had passed in eerie silence, Daryl finally spoke up: "I still remember some things ya know." Carol put her fork down and glanced over at the man. "Like what?" she asked quietly, fighting to mask the surprise that she was feeling at the admittance. She wasn't used to this new Daryl, the one that offered up conversation like it was nothing; the old Daryl had taken her three months to get more than two sentences out of. "Like that hamburgers and potatoes are my favorite dinner." Daryl's mouth was turned upwards in a barely noticeable smile, but it still made Carol's heart grow three times bigger in her chest. She giggled lightly and returned a grin of her own. Daryl looked down shyly, brown hair falling in his eyes as he did so. Figuring he wouldn't mind if she continued the conversation, Carol asked, "What else do you remember?"

Daryl shifted in his seat; he had always been so fidgety. "Just stupid shit," he started. "Not anythin' you'd probably wanna hear." Carol had to force herself to stay seated and not grab his hand from across the table. If only Daryl knew. Even before the accident there had been so much she didn't know about his past – he rarely ever spoke of his childhood or his family. She'd always suspected it was a touchy subject, but one she yearned to learn about. "No, Daryl, I'd actually love to hear anything. Honestly." Carol said, smiling warmly at him.

Daryl brushed the hair from in front of his eyes and shrugged. "Well…" he thought about it for a moment before continuing. "I still remember how I got this scar," he said, pointing to a small, barely visible white scar that ran from his wrist to where his thumb began. The scar was slightly jagged, but for the most part was almost completely faded, probably one he'd gotten early on in life. "Was climbin' a tree when I was probably 'bout eight. My brother bet me I couldn' do it. But man, if he wasn't pissed off when I proved 'im wrong. Too bad I got my ass beat by a tree tryin' ta climb down." Daryl finished, his eyes holding a light in them that Carol had never seen before. She could tell that even though the memory had left him scarred, it was one of the happiest in his life. "My brother wasn't really the hangin' out type." Daryl added, squirming uncomfortably in his seat.

Carol just nodded, not wanting to push him any further than she already had. "You know, I've got some scars of my own from a pretty similar story." she said quietly, holding out the palms of her hands. Daryl leaned slightly closer and squinted down at her hands, tracing the minute scars with his eyes. "When I was younger some boys bet me I couldn't climb a tree. I fell trying to get down too." Daryl's eyes were still down as she pulled her hands from the table, placing them gently back in her lap.

"Maybe Daryl, you remember more about me than you think you do."

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**A/N 2: Thanks for reading! Reviews are always appreciated! :)**


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